


Blackwater Current

by TexasTeaRose



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasTeaRose/pseuds/TexasTeaRose
Summary: Persephone drowns in unwanted dreams leading up to the darkest, longest night of the year.





	1. Sunday

When she woke, heart clanging against her ribs like steel, the darkness was deep, and oily-thick. Persephone drifted in the inconvenient limbo between waking and wanting, willing her clenched toes to uncoil and waiting for the blood to stop hammering below her navel.

She rode the aftershocks for a time in the semi dark, just breathing, filling her lungs with the smell of sweat and rose petals. The orgasm faded and rolled away, and twin bloody eyes faded to non-existence, two blood moons blocking out the sun. Her wave of bliss passed, and she felt as wrung out and devoid as a rag on the edge of a basin.

_It happened again. _She groaned with agony and practiced suffocating herself in the pillow. 

As days plunged farther into winter, he was there every night, ready to greet her in the unconscious playground where impossible things became possible. At first, he was a welcome guest, friendly and innocuous. He chased away the predominate nightmares of the past, dreams filled with flashbulbs of dazzling light, so bright they made her gag and retch. Hades brought the shade she had been seeking, the tomb-like darkness where she could lick her wounds and grow strength.

In the mortal realm, she dreamt of simple pleasures: running on warm packed earth with dogs, golden corn silk sticky between her fingertips, early dawn fog melting coolly around her back and shoulders. Now, it was complicated. The familiar sensations were still there: warm, sticky, cool… but it was his mouth that stirred her to satisfaction. His mouth and… other things. She flushed, shame rising molten hot in her chest.

She took a breath, held it in.

The dreams swept her along, night after night, a blackwater current dashing her again and again on rocks of temptation and wanting, threatening to break her willpower. Hades was a well of gravity pulling her down, down into a sinkhole of light and stars and infinite blackness. Bits of memory flickered, slick, wet, hot.

_Hades fucking her in the bucket seat of his sports car, deep in the bowels of the parking garage. The smell of leather and motor oil and ambrosia petals._

_Hades fucking her against the ore-shot marble slab atop his desk, his tie impeccable, steam behind his glasses. Cognac and bergamot cigar smoke roiling around their mouths and plunging into her lungs. _

_Hades fucking her on the travertine pool edge, bodies oozing over the lip together, sinking into the hot mineral bath. The suck and gurgle of water against their bellies._

_Hades fucking her on the level 99 rooftop, calfskin gloves snagging the mistletoe in her hair, frost in his eyelashes and snow dusting his tailored stygian shoulders._

Hades. It was always Hades. She felt her eyelids growing heavy, her jaw slackening, her lips parting. A yearning came into her brain and passed all over her body in a hideous sensation, like descending alone into a dark and silent basement

Her hand leapt to her throat, too late to halt her audible gasp. “No, no, no, no, _NO_!” Incensed, she lashed out with both hands and hurled a pillow as hard and far away as she could. It exploded in a bouquet of feathers and blue hydrangea petals against the far wall. She stared at it a moment, crumpled and defeated against the baseboard, before rising to gather a broom.

“Persephone, _focus_.” she voiced aloud, tidying. “You are a professional. You have manners. You are a self-respecting, classy lady.” She padded into the kitchen, naked, depositing the mess into the bin. “So what if you were raised to sleep in the dirt?”

At the kitchen sink, she caught her reflection in the window, her face amplified by the darkness outside. She hesitated there, hands braced on the lip of the basin, peering into her own shadow eyes. The Goddess in the window faltered, expression unsure.

“And above all else, you are….” The Persephone that looked in from the darkness betrayed her. In the dim light, her cheeks were high with color, eyes bright with fervor. Her heart lurched and she saw her own face crumple. “A twitterpated, quivering _blob!_” she wailed, hands coming up to conceal her misery. “What can I do to stop this? Who can I talk to?” A rolodex of faces shuffled in her mind’s eye. Horrifyingly, the most likely candidate had a blue face and brick red eyes. She squelched that option.

“_Nope. Nope. Nope. _No one. I don’t need to talk to anyone about this, because this isn’t _a problem_.” She was reluctant to admit that her resolve held a forlorn, dismal tone. 

Persephone pensively picked at the petals of the asphodel on the kitchen counter, present in its quaint copper pot since the day she arrived.“Psh. At least I have you to keep me company.” She liked to believe it had always been there, a remnant of the last tenant. Thinking that it had been left intentionally for her led to counterproductive thoughts. She picked a tuber from the plant and put it in her mouth, chewing absently. Deeply sweet.

The apartment belonged to Hades- or, was it an Underworld Corp investment holding? Surely not his personal space? Yes, that was what she’d been told. The entire arrangement was convoluted and murky at best. Persephone was no fool, and an icy whisper in her gut told her the apartment wasn’t a common offering to a lowly intern. Still, Hades said it was policy, and when she predictably balked, he assured her that the arrangement was “completely customary”. His voice was soft, but ultimate. Hecate was silent, hovering in the background of said conversation, but Persephone would swear she heard invisible daggers whistling past her ears, not meant for her. Hades’ face betrayed nothing out of the ordinary. 

So, she was in the apartment. In the end, she did accept, reluctantly, only because it took her far away from the prying, corona-bright eyes of Apollo. At least, that made the most plausible sense.

Artemis looked as wounded as an injured fawn when Persephone broke the news; they would still keep in touch, especially for movie night, right? Persephone had not accepted the invitation in a month. She did accept the large-bladed hunting knife Artemis bequeathed her. “For possible assholes, and erasing said possible assholes,” Artemis explained darkly. As she said this, Persephone knew the gleam in Artemis’ eye held space for Hades, but could not fault her for ignorance. How ironic that her safety was best assured in a place where no living thing could grow.

Nowadays, she was her most miserable when she crossed the threshold at night and was greeted by silence and shadows.

Persephone unfolded the intern-relegated computer lent to her c/o Underworld Corp. The lid was sticky with the residual adhesive of a long-removed _Red Minotaur_energy drink sticker. She began to compose an email.

_Dear, friend,_

_I hope this email finds you well. I have not seen you in many weeks, but I have been thinking about you from a distance. I hope you have found the happiness you are chasing._

_If you are reading this, I have a favor to ask. You once told me that you and your mother have some influence over us that have been... well, you get the idea. In that sense, do you also have the ability to remove certain… impulses, as well as initiate them? I need to be rid of some pesky and persistent feelings, as they are ruining my entire existence and any hope I have of becoming a functional and well-adjusted Goddess for the rest of eternity._

_All my love, _

_Persephone._


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just pretend Persephone never had to give up that coat.

Monday. This was lining up to be a despicable day. 

_ Only sixteen miserable hours to go!_ Then, her head would hit the pillow and her huge, throbbing hunk of a boss would strip her naked and tease her silly. There was a very real-life ache in her back from all the nocturnal squirming. Yikes, how raw would she feel if he had actually been pounding her out? 

_No, Ma’am!_

_Sweet mother of Gaia, this is ludacris_!

Persephone wore the fur stole out on the street that morning, regretted it immediately. The precious garment slyly slipped puffs of yummy Hades house smells when she least appreciated it. 

But she had nothing warmer, and it was the deepest, darkest, most depressing day of the year: Winter Solstice. The holiday bonfires on the street did nothing to extinguish the heatwave residue in her addled brain.

She checked her phone: _no Eros.__Gods!_

Once in the vast lobby, she was a sunrise snowflake in a black sea of Underworld Corp employees. Occasionally, another female would shoot a look of green-eyed venom at her back as she scanned the room. Persephone did not even feel their icy stares; the stole was too warm.

No Hades.

_Disaster averted. _

For additional posterity, she bypassed the elevators. Elevators led to forced, awkward interactions. The utility stairwell was less emotionally confrontational; cruel to her thighs, but not to her heart. She slipped off her heels and tip-toed barefoot up to level nine. 

Ever the obedient underling, Persephone began auditing, emailing and conference calling at 9am. After several hours of ferocious desk time, Hermes fluttered in through the far window, shortly before noon. A winter gale chased him inside, whipping his hair like a copper banner.

Proximal female heads turned, covertly. Hermes was wearing a pencil-narrow, charcoal mohair suit, shirt unbuttoned at the throat.

All shades of garnet and grey. He smoldered like an ember.

She forced that out of her mind. 

“Persephoneeeeeee…” Wingtips flickered hummingbird-fast in the space close to her ear. The tiny breeze ruffled her hair like a whisper. “A gift from your mother.” From behind, he planted a firm kiss on her cheek, then dumped a cat-sized burlap sack onto her desk with a _cthunk_. It rattled the desktop once, hard. Her pens chittered in their glass cup.

“What is …_oh_.” She flicked back the wrapping and pressed her forehead into a hand. A sudden hot wave of embarrassment. “_A Yule Log?_”

“Your mother really does think of _everything_…” Hermes swam gracefully over her head and unfurled the length of his body above her desk, hovering just above her green and brass reading lamp. “Oh, Demeter… I can think of much better ways to celebrate rebirth and fertility than burning a _log_.” The teeth he flashed at her gleamed icily.

_ Yikes. Hold it together, girl. Long-time friend-zoned, remember?_

Still, that vulpine smile made her soft, and warm. The muscles in her thighs felt like melting toffee. She choked wetly. “Gods, how embarrassing! Can you… can we make this disappear for a bit?”

“No arguments here. It really makes the corporate atmosphere less sexy, if that were even possible.” The log was unceremoniously dumped behind the umbrella stand by the door.

While Persephone was wondering what a fertility celebration might involve, Hermes plucked a ranunculus from his breast coat pocket and stuck the stem between his molars. “You like…?” he coyly grinned, posture languid. His voice was heavy and smooth like hot cream.

She didn’t like it, but her gut did a tiny backflip. Just one. 

Persephone shoved the reaction down deep and fought to maintain desktop order. Exasperated, she barely plucked a paperweight out of the air before it crashed to the ground. There was an edge in her voice when she growled, “is that supposed to be for me?”

“Oh, you’re no fun. I thought you liked a little unruliness?” he goaded, his sanguine eyes hooded and sly. He tittered the flower blossom at her nose in a mock-scold. “Is my favorite wild child already assimilating to corporate order?”

She batted the flower away and droned flatly, “Uh…no.”

“Then why don’t you blow off that dreary to-do list and join me for lunch? There is a little Turkish place on the corner that is obviously worth dying for.”

“Listen, Hermes, I’m not in the best mood. I had some weird dreams last night and-”

His eyes narrowed like a cat. “Sounds _juicy_! Do tell?” He pounced, palms flat on her desktop, but the words had died in her mouth.

She averted her gaze. “Nothing to tell.”

Hermes noticed. He eased back in the air in a contemplative manner. “Hmmm…I do love a good secret, but … I’ll drop the bait, for now. So, about our lunch date...”

“We _have _no lunch date, Hermes. I was planning on eating here at my desk. I brought my lunch with me, see?” Persephone had been looking forward to her lunch; a bento box packed neatly with medjool dates and goat cheese. She even had a little tin of marzipan in the shape of a penguin. Equal parts cute, adorable and sugar.

“_Bo-ring_!” He snatched her lunch bag, held it high in the air. Persephone reached, “_Hey_! _That’s mine_-!”

“Listen, I’ll be sure to eat this for you later, but I would really prefer that you stopped acting like such a corporate drone. It’s winter, and dark, and dreary, blah blah blah, _I get it_… but I miss my wild girl.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “Do you remember when you used to grow poppies for us? We burned them together at night, down by the lagoon. We used to swim until morning.”

The heat in his voice shocked her; it was so heavy and purposeful that the air between them became charged. She stared at his lips, the edge of his jaw. She answered carefully, “I don’t see what that has to do with my _lunch_.”

“That’s just it- it doesn’t. I just want you to know that I still have dreams about it. They keep me up at night too.” His slow smile took her breath away.

Color rose in her face, hot and swift. “_Stop that_!” she blurted, scandalized.

“Oh, Persephone…back then you were so much more... _flexible_.” His eyes burned. “What’s got you feeling so _blue _lately?”

Silence stretched, lengthened.

“I…”

_Beautiful, nosy bastard! _What was he getting at? These word games were wearing her thin.

Hermes made no effort to speak, so Persephone pressed on, a little fevered,“Hermes, I don’t know. I _have _been a little down in the dumps lately, but-”

“_I’ll say_.” He began doing backstrokes around the periphery of her workspace. “C’mon, break the rules a _little_, Persephone. This place has been a total snorefest lately, and The Beach was beyond depressing this morning. Maybe some poppies would help cheer it up?” He sat up in the air and grinned wickedly.

“_Hmph_. No, thank you. I think I’ve spouted enough unwanted greenery in the Underworld for this century.” She groaned and scrubbed a hand through her hair. The weight of it tumbled down her spine. “…besides, you can’t tell me that flying about all day is exactly slave labor.”

“_Persephone_, have you _ever _transported a shade from the mortal realm?” He flipped upside-down and held the back of a hand to his forehead melodramatically. “It’s like being the taxi driver for a sad, crying cloud. No, it’s like being a _therapist_for a sad, crying cloud. All day- _but I didn’t mean to walk into that knife, fall off that cliff, choke on that kabab, poke that jellyfish…_I need a vacation._”_

A faint smile curved her lips. “Such a sourpuss on a holiday. I don’t think I should be having lunch with such a grouch.”

“So you’re considering it?” he quipped slyly, and snatched up her hand, laying a chaste kiss across her knuckles. “Come on, cheer me up. Please?” He gave her fingers a little tug.

She deflated. “I… I really have to…”

He rolled over in the air to peer foxily at her, fingertips steepled beneath his chin. “You know, ever since Minthe got put in indefinite “time out” this place has been seriously lacking in excitement.” Hermes floated closer, and crossed the threshold of propriety, his mouth so close to hers that she was momentarily derailed. She felt his breath on her face, light and fast. “You want to stir up some trouble after hours tonight? I know someone who would love to see you work a little overtime.”

An instant of confusion. “Who? Hecate? She did say something about venus fly traps in the men’s bathroom, but-”

“Tsk.” Hermes tossed his fire-bright hair dismissively. “No. Think less…scary.”

_ Scary?_

_ Oh._

_ Him._

_ Hades._

Memory flared, vivid and bright.

_ Muscles clenching, pulsing. Hands sliding and gripping. His rocking pelvis pinning her up against the hood of the sports car. His mouth trailing wetness below her ear, breath making ragged little sounds. _

_ Unn…mn…hah…_

The moment vanished like a pricked bubble.

Hermes was uncomfortably close, watching her eyes intently. There was a look of amazement, even laughter on his face, but only for one instant.

“Oh… _oh_!” Persephone blurted, flinching back. Her neck was hot with fresh blood. A ridiculously stupid laugh escaped her lips before she could choke it down. “Hermes, I think the person you’re referring to is a _critic_of my work, not an admirer.”

“My_ sweet_,” he chided, “we’re not talking about admiring _plants_.” To her ears, his tone was uncharacteristically melancholy. “Anyway, I just wanted to see you blush!”

Scandalized, she blurted, “Hermes, stop teasing me! You shouldn’t kid me about… _that_. He’s my boss, and he would never-”

“Never mind then,” Hermes snapped, too briskly, and drew back. His gaze lacked its previous luster and shine.

Persephone opened her mouth to say more, suddenly afraid of what she might have left unsaid. Hermes cut her off dissmissively.

“I’ll stop- but only because you’re going to lunch with me. The keftethes are getting impatient.”

It might have had something to do with the bizarre moment that just transpired, but Persephone felt her resolve finally give way. She stood to her feet, tucking in her chair. “Oh, _fine_. Just let me get my coa- eek!” Her breath caught in a squeal as Hermes swept her off her feet, cradling her to his torso like a bride. She had no choice but to throw her arms over his shoulders and clutch his neck. “Hermes, the stairs. I would rather-“

“No, I won’t let you rob me of this opportunity!” His voice was a warm and pleasant purr against her breasts. “Every so often I need to be reminded what a warm-blooded woman feels like.”

All eyes in the room were on them now.

“Hermes, wait, my _coat_\- “

But they were off, and she didn’t know what shocked her more: the plunge into winter air, or that she heard herself shrieking with laughter.


End file.
